


Life Lessons

by Spicy_Salt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College kids Lance & Keith, Keith's horny & Lance is cool, M/M, Trans Lance (Voltron), Weed & alcohol use, klance, nsfw klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spicy_Salt/pseuds/Spicy_Salt
Summary: Keith is just a horny little bottom who can't stop wondering what it would be like to get dicked down by his trans roomate, who also happens to be his classes figure drawing model
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 83
Kudos: 532





	1. Lesson 1: How does Lance is top??

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter contains: 
> 
> Weed & alcohol use  
> Sex  
> Lots of swears

Keith wasn’t expecting this when Hunk invited his friend from back home to move in with them. Wasn’t expecting that friend to be the hottest, most charismatic dude he’d ever met. _Definitely_ wasn’t expecting said dude to step onto the figure drawing stage on Keith’s first day of school - completely naked, beautifully confident, and - to Keith’s surprise - trans. 

He wasn’t expecting them to get along as well as they do, basically becoming inseparable within a couple months. Wasn’t expecting Lance to be so fun, and comfortable, and good at chilling Keith out when he gets stressed. Wasn’t expecting him to be as cute as he is when he gets in one of his Moods - when he needs a hug and some hot chocolate and a cringy romcom movie night that Keith wasn’t expecting to enjoy sitting through.

Wasn’t expecting to makeout with him at that one house party, even if it _was_ on a dare....

Most of all, Keith wasn’t expecting the Thing. The Question. Was genuinely curious when he asked it, but wasn’t prepared for the direction it would set them in. 

“Can I ask you something?” It was a Friday night, Hunk and Pidge were out at some gaming bar. Lance and Keith were getting nice and chill and high in the backyard before settling in for a premature halloween movie marathon.

Keith had been wondering for a while. If he’s being completely honest, just wanted something concrete to fantasize about...or, to make sure he was fantasizing properly? It’s shitty either way, but if he knows Lance as well as he thinks he’s starting to, he probably wouldn’t mind being the subject of Keiths fantasies. 

“Shoot.” Why’s he always so cool when he’s high? Nobody’s supposed to be cool when they’re high. 

“It’s um...it might be too personal, I don’t really know...I don’t know.” Keith’s definitely not cool when he’s high, definitely should’ve thought this through before putting it all in motion - what is he supposed to say? ‘How do you fuck without a dick cause I spend half my time fantasizing about it but I don’t know what to picture?’ 

Lance hums around the joint between his lips before pulling a slow hit and speaking through the smoke that escapes on his exhale. “I don’t mind, s’long as it’s an honest question.” 

He doesn’t seem concerned. He’s a chill dude. Keith should just ask it. 

“How do you...uh...have sex?” 

It gets Lance stalling for a second, blinking at the empty space he’d been staring at. Fuck fuck fuck this was a bad idea, Keith fucked it all up, what kind of question is that? 

He feels his chest starting to get tight with the breath he doesn't realize he’s holding, the autumn air crisp and burning where it usually feels so calming - but it all melts when Lance stifles his laughter and lets out an amused little “oh” of recognition. 

“Pretty much same as other dudes, I just use a strap on.” 

Keith starts to relax at the casualness of his tone, accepts the joint being handed to him, presses the filter against his bottom lip in thought but doesn’t take a hit yet. 

“Do you get off from that?” 

“In my own way, kinda...prolly not how you’re thinking, though.” 

He wants to ask more, but he’s already blown past some major tmi barriers. Can feel his brows furrowing while he scans the ground in thought, doesn’t notice the eyes taking in his reaction until Lance is pulling the joint from his fingers and holding it to his mouth- realizes he still hasn’t taken that hit. 

“Depends who I’m with,” he starts while Keith accepts the offer, lips pressed against Lance's fingers. “But I usually like getting sucked off as much as the next dude.” 

And _oh_ _man_ Keith should really be even a _little_ bit embarrassed about how quickly that sends interested heat straight to his dick. He isn’t sure if it’s the thought of it, or the way Lance leaned in a bit and dropped his voice all low to say it, but it’s definitely got him feeling some kinda way. 

It has his eyes darting between Lance’s, has his lips frozen against his fingers cause he just needs to pause for a second while he thinks about that. But Lance is putting things back into motion, moving on from whatever moment Keith is having, not letting him linger on it. 

“Why’d you ask anyway?” He pulls the joint back and sets it in the ashtray to burn down until one of them picks it back up. 

“I - uh, I dunno...never slept with a trans guy so...I was curious?” And maybe if he wasn’t high and still lingering on the thought of going down on Lance he’d be a little smarter about his answer. But he is high. And he is imagining burying his head between Lance’s legs and making him cum. So he opens himself up as easy prey. 

“Caaauuuuse you’re thinkin about it?” He says it with a hammy smirk and a dramatic eyebrow raise. Has come onto Keith before with his over the top antics, but they never hit like this, even though it’s just as goofy and lighthearted as usual. 

Because this is normally where Keith would roll his eyes and brush it off as Lance being Lance, maybe flirt back with some of his own over the top antics, but he struggles with it this time. Can’t force an eye roll because _yes_ he’s been thinking about it _,_ has been wanting Lance to dick him down for _weeks_ even though he didn’t know until right now what that would even entail. 

And his hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed. It has Lance’s smirk falling into something more unsure, like he can’t believe his stupid adorable flirting actually worked. 

“ _Are_ you...? Thinkin about it?” It’s not flirty anymore, it’s...it’s eager. He _wants_ Keith to say yes, but Keith can barely get himself to blink let alone give a solid answer, feels like a deer in the headlights. 

Lance is so cool. Even when he’s high. Even when he’s being asked by his horny, naive roommate how he fucks. Even when he’s tempting Keith out of the comfort of friendship and into the unknown waters of... _more_ than just friendship. 

“It’s okay,” he’s cool when he tucks a bit of hair behind Keith’s ear as an excuse to trail his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’ve thought about it, too.” He’s cool up close, still smiling, holding that heavy eye contact, oozing enough confidence to make up for Keith’s lack of it. 

Fuck, he’s hot. 

Shit, if Keith can’t force himself to say something, the least he can do is tease Lance’s thumb into his mouth, licks it slowly before closing his lips around it to give it a suck like he knows makes him look slutty. 

It gets Lance’s eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise, has his chest rising in a heavy inhale. He’s not shy about his appreciation and Keith _likes that shit._

“Bet you’d look adorable underneath me,” he leans in close to say it, mouth ghosting over Keith’s, thumb pressed down on his tongue. They’re gunna kiss. They’re gunna kiss and it’s not on a dare and that makes it so much hotter. 

But fate has other plans. They can hear Hunk and Pidge returning, loud and a bit drunk, all the way from the backyard, but Lance isn’t startled. He gives the house a calm, quick once over, but turns back to Keith, still close, still cool. 

Takes his thumb out of Keiths mouth and holds his jaw in place to slot their lips together. It’s quick, and he’s still smirking into it, _leaning_ into it, but it’s heavy too - deep and warm and tastes like smoke. It has Keith straightening up, inhaling a steadying breath through his nose while surprised butterflies dance in his stomach, and then it’s over. 

“Another night,” Lance stays close for it, lips brush back against Keith’s while he says it. Steps back just in time for Hunk and Pidge to come looking for them, none the wiser as to why Keith’s acting weird for the rest of the night - at least he can blame it on the high. 

***

  
  


This is fine. Nothing’s changed really. They still go about their day to day life. Lance still hams it up and flirts with Keith, it’s just that now, Keith knows it’s not just friendly flirting. 

Now, he know’s how sexy that voice can get when it’s not being hammy. Now he knows that Lance is thinking about fucking him just as much as he’s thinking about Lance fucking him. 

Now he knows _how_ Lance would fuck him…

But it’s fine. Nothing’s changed. 

***

They cross paths one night in the hallway. It’s late, Hunk and Pidge are asleep, and Lance just finished showering, is on his way back to his room with nothing but a towel around his waist. 

He always looks cute with wet hair. 

Tan skin is still dripping, his half sleeve of a black and grey lion is glistening, the scars on his chest send pleasant tingles up Keith’s spine that he can’t explain but gets every time he sees them. 

He flashes Keith a smile after they nearly bump into each other, smells like his shampoo. “Sorry, dude.” And he’s on his way, disappearing behind his bedroom door. 

Well...Keith’s definitely not going straight to sleep tonight. 

But it’s fine. Nothing’s changed. 

***

Keith has life drawing on Tuesdays. Lance is modelling after a couple weeks of vacation, and for the first time in his life, Keith has to remind himself not to get horny for the life drawing model. 

It’s artistic, not sexual. 

They’re professionals, not performers. 

Except for Lance. He’s definitely a performer. Usually puts on a show for the artists, making up entire backstories to the characters he’s modelling. It’s just that this time, he’s being sexy. 

It’s still artistic and professional and Keith’s pretty sure he’s the only one who thinks anything of it - and maybe that’s because every time they make eye contact, Lance shoots him another one of those smirks that go straight to his dick. 

But it’s definitely not helped by the way he straddles the chair, apparently deciding that today would be a good day for a cowboy character.

Keith doesn’t make it through the whole class. He leaves half way through and blames it on a headache. 

But it’s fine. Nothing’s changed. 

***

It’s not fine. 

Things have changed. 

Keith isn’t complaining. 

But he really wishes that “other night” Lance was talking about would hurry up and get here because he doesn’t know how much longer he can take all these theatrics without getting fucked within an inch of his life like he was promised.

(He was never actually promised that, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t happen) 

***

They have a big house party for Halloween. Everyone in Hunks culinary class brought food, Pidge and her programming friends are talking tech in the basement, Keith's art hoe friends are singing some off key bangers while one of them strums on his guitar. Even some of Lance’s environmental studies class buddies showed up.

It’s all fun and tipsy and crowded and all that good shit that’s got Keith loosening up and doing shots with the chefs until he feels a pair of hands on his hips and a familiar chest pressing into his back and the smell of Lance’s cologne hazing his brain over. 

“You gunna come dance, hot stuff?” It’s close and private and has Lance’s lips grazing over his ear - gets him hot and bothered way too quickly, but he’s got two weeks of Lance being a tease to thank for that. 

“Where?” He looks around, hears the loud bass coming from somewhere but doesn’t see dancing. 

“Basement, Pidge’s tech nerds got their hands on the sound system, s’basically a rave down there.” 

That should be fun to clean up tomorrow. 

“Let’s go.” 

He lets Lance lead him by the hand, shimmying past bodies and squeezing their way into the dancing crowd until they’re one with the beat. 

Keith’s not much of a dancer. Can’t really do anything besides sway his hips and pop his ass out to be admired, but apparently that’s all Lance needs. Just like their confidence levels, he’s got enough skill for the both of them. Makes Keith feel sexier just being near him. 

He gets his hands back on Keith’s hips immediately, humming in admiration while Keith pulls out all 2 of his tricks and grinds up into Lance’s lap. It’s good though. Lance is swaying his hips too, way more coordinated than Keith could ever hope to be, and leads him in a grind that’s easy to follow and hot as hell and blends them in perfectly with the crowd of drunk college kids. 

He pulls Keith nice and close, back to chest, ass to dick, runs his hands up Keith’s stomach and back down again and it’s hot it’s hot it’s so fucking hot and giving Keith the confidence he needs to reach behind him and grab the back of Lance’s head so he can hold him close and nip at his lips with a demanding, “you’re fuckin’ me tonight.” 

He gets that grin, the one that would kill if it could, and a dangerously low “yes _sir_ ,” in return before they lock lips as a commitment. 

Everything’s spinning by the time they leave the dance floor to make their way upstairs. Keith’s brain is heavy, eyes are heavy, but Lance is swaying with him, arm across his back to keep him steady. 

“Someone’s not sober~” he teases when Keith stumbles on one of the steps, clutching Lance’s shirt for support. 

“Fuckin’ chefs, dude,” he’s grinning with closed eyes now, letting Lance lead him because he’s only slightly less drunk. “They go hard.” 

***

Lance’s bed is heaven. 

As is the weight that follows Keith down onto it, crawling over him slowly until he can swoop down and catch Keith’s mouth in a heavy kiss. It’s heated like it was two weeks ago, heavy and desperate but it’s getting faster now. 

He feels like he should say something. 

Acknowledge that they’re going to fuck, but if that means breaking away from Lance’s lips then fuck that. Keith hasn’t been kissed like this in….ever. 

It’s honest and considerate and needy all at the same time, it’s _comfortable_. Feels like they’re in a movie - real kisses can’t be this perfect, can they? Maybe it’s because he’s drunk and every part of him that Lance isn’t rubbing up on is numb, but tonight, Keith’s in heaven. 

Doesn’t even complain when Lance breaks away to sit up because he’s replacing his mouth with his fingers in the smoothest transition Keith’s ever witnessed, pushing past his lips and starting up a slow pump in and out, pads of his fingertips pressing against Keith's tongue. 

He watches with glossed over eyes while Lance pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through it until he finds what he’s looking for, keeping Keith sucking dutifully on those fingers while his music fills the room, soft and loud at the same time. 

It’s the perfect song. Keith doesn’t even know what song it is but it’s perfect because it’s Lances, and it sounds like Lance, and of course this is what getting fucked by Lance sounds like. 

When he’s finished, Lance slips his fingers out, trails them, hot and wet across Keith's cheek until they're holding his jaw in place, gentle but firm, so he can lean in and tease Keith's tongue out with his own in a heated dance that tastes like blue curacao. 

Hands start to wander, heavy under fabric, heavy over skin. Keith will sacrifice their kiss again so that Lance can throw their shirts to the floor without a second thought and love a trail down Keith's chest, down his stomach, hands already working at his belt by the time Lance's mouth reaches it. 

And fuck, Keith feels like he should say something, maybe something about how long he’s been wanting this. Whatever he needs to say, the words aren’t coming. 

Aren’t coming because he doesn’t know what they are, but also because Lance is swallowing him down now, pants forgotten on the floor with their shirts. 

It sends a wave of pleasure through his body, air filling his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, hips leaning up into the inviting, wet warmth of Lance’s mouth. It’s got his hands grasping at bangs - doesn’t know why but he needs to run his fingers through that cute sandy hair. 

And _fuck_ he should say something. Tell Lance how good it feels, how amazing of a job he’s doing when he starts to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks on the way up and opening his throat on the way down. Even with the whisky and vodka in his system, Keith can feel the heat pooling low in his stomach _way_ too soon. 

He wants to dirty talk but he’s never been good at it - even if he could, the words would get plucked out from under him as soon as Lance blows right past rubbing circles around his hole in favor of sinking his fingers in, still wet from Keith’s mouth and _hoooo boy that’s the good shit fucking finally something in his ass._

The absolute madman, he’s fucking his fingers nice and deep and bobbing his head nice and quick and Keith’s putty in his hands, isn’t even embarrassed by the sounds Lance pulls out of him because all that confidence, the cocky, over the top flirting, he can _back it up holy shit this man is dangerous._

Keith nearly forgets where he is, gets lost in the head rush and the pulsing, relentless pleasure, but Lance must be attentive because he cut’s Keith off right before he tips over the edge. Crawls back up to his face with that _deadly fucking smirk_ and leans in for another kiss. 

And even though it’s technically nothing compared to the shit he just felt two seconds ago, the touch of Lances bare chest pressing up against his has something stirring in Keith’s heart. Pushes him to wrap his arms around Lances back and pull him in even tighter, presses them even closer together. 

It has both of them drawing in a long breath through their nose, has Lance rolling his hips down, starting up a nice, slow grind that gets Keith’s chest tightening with anticipation. 

And he still feels like he should say something, but Lance fills the silence this time, breaks away to nip a couple quick, soft kisses and then stares down, eyes searching Keith's, examining like he’s reminding himself what he’s going to do with him. 

Decides to remind Keith as well, hips pressing down harder now, his jeans static against Keith's nakedness, lips feather light across his ear, voice low and scratchy when he says it; “knew you’d look cute underneath me.” 

And Keith needs to say something. He doesn’t know why but he needs to talk. 

“You’re...this’s…” Fuck why can’t he get the words out? “You’re good.” Not the hottest thing he’s said but at least he got something out. Lance seems to like it, it gets his smirk turning into a smile, and it gets Keith another light pecked kiss. 

“ _Baby_ ,” He teases, eyes almost pitying. “That was just the appetizer.” 

Keith can’t hold it in, furrows his brow and squeezes his eyes shut and presses the back of his head into the pillow with a straight up _whine._

_"Fffuuck,"_ because _really?_

_Really?_

How can one person be _so fucking hot_? 

It gets another one of those fond smiles, gets Lance moving slowly, standing up at the foot of the bed and unbuckling his belt. Pants dropping to the floor so he can pull out his dick, the strap on he’d been wearing all night ready in his hand - Keith _knew_ he felt that when they were dancing. Definitely felt it when Lance was grinding down on him just now. 

And he’s seen Lance naked a million times in life drawing, but it’s never like this. Never towering over him, lubing up his dick and pushing Keith’s knees back so he can line himself up. Keith’s never seen him staring down, holding the eye contact, smirk gone now because he’s biting at his bottom lip - concentrating? Staring into Keith’s fucking soul while he sinks in, slow and deep until he bottoms out. 

Keith wants to stare back, wants to swear, but his lungs are hitching, eyes are rolling to the back of his head, mouth's dropping open, brows cinched together because _fuuuuuuuck yes, fuck, he’s finally getting what he needs and why does the thought of Lance still staring at him get him so hot?_

When he blinks his eyes back open he’s right, Lance is still watching him, still worrying at his bottom lip, so fucking focused on Keith it has his dick jumping at the sight. Has him straining to keep that eye contact while Lance picks up the pace, snapping his hips in a quick, deadly rhythm, taking in Keith's reaction, assessing, making sure it's the one he wants. 

It’s...a lot. It’s intense, and way more intimate than any first time Keith’s had with somebody, but he can’t get enough of it. Misses it when Lance starts to stroke his dick, has him giving in and squeezing his eyes shut because it's _too fucking good._

Fuck, this is what Keith needed. It’s _everything_ he’s _ever_ needed, and he hasn’t even cum yet but he’s already thinking about the next time they’re doing this because there’s no _way_ he’s going back to being teased with that over the top flirtatious bullshit when they could be doing _this_ instead. 

And fuck he wants to say something. Still wants to get out whatever it is he needs to get out. Should tell Lance that he’s getting close but he can barely remember to breathe, let alone form a coherent sentence. 

“ _nnfuck- ..._ La- _hance!”_

“What is it, baby?” Keith’s never liked pet names in his life, but when Lance says it...he feels it working over his dick, over his heart. And he sounds so calm - Lance does. A little out of breath, but still focused, so much contrast to Keith - a gasping, shaking, dripping mess.

The hand that brushes his bangs to the side calms Keith down, grounds him, has him leaning into it. It gets him to open his eyes, blinking frantically, but he can see Lance again, can see how he drinks him in, no longer biting his lip, just watching Keith come undone beneath him. 

His own personal mess of a boy. 

“What is it, Keith?” He tries it again, voice gentle but hips still snapping fast and hard and _how_ _the fuck_ does he expect Keith to answer when he's getting fucked like _this??_

Keith's gunna cum, it's only been a few minutes but he can feel the heat swirling, his pulse getting heavy, lungs getting fuller with every gasp. Should tell Lance that he’s almost there. He should tell him not to stop, should tell him how fucking good he is. 

“C..can youkissme?” It comes out all in one breath. Definitely isn’t any of the things he meant to say, but he doesn’t regret it. He wants Lance to kiss him again. Wants it while he cums. 

He gets the soft smile in return, fond heavy eyelids, and a sweet little “‘course baby,” while Lance leans down for it. His hips still for a moment before they adjust to the shift, snapping a bit slower, but hitting a bit deeper with the change in position. 

The kiss is hard, deep, doesn't have much room for finesse with how Lance has their bodies pitching up, how his hand working quickly between them has Keith's dick weeping, mouth dropping open. 

Maybe kissing is off the table, maybe Keith is too fucked out to focus, but Lance still stays close, drops his head into the crook of Keith's neck and buries his face in the pillow beneath them. 

Maybe this is what Keith wanted. What he needed - to be able to grab handfuls of Lance's hair while he tips over the edge, lungs stopping, voice catching, muscles tensing. He needed to be able to run his blunt fingernails along Lance's back, trying to leave marks for a reason he’d rather not explore this very second because it just feels right. 

Lance fucks him through it, through the hair pulling, and the scratching. Keeps those quick, heavy thrusts going even after they're both sticky with cum. Fucks another dry, mind numbing orgasm out of him that has Keith blacking out for a second, seeing stars, going numb and then feeling it all again, wave after wave of _that good_ _shit._

It’s almost too much, almost has him stinging with over-stimulation but it doesn’t and he’s never had this with another person before but it’s _better_ than what he has by himself because _this time Lance is the one getting him there and Lance is watching him tip over and Lance actually_ is _fucking him within an inch of his life._

Keith's nothing if not an over achiever. Has never known when to stop. Would probably let Lance fuck him unconscious if left to his own devices. But luckily he's not, he's left to Lance's devices. And Lance's devices jump into action when Keith's lungs give in, about to burst from holding his breath in a silent orgasm for way too long.

The air he gasps in has Keith sobbing, tears pricking his eyes, voice strained and uneven, but riding out one last rush of endorphins when his brain gets it's fill of oxygen again. 

It leaves him dizzy and lightheaded and wishing he didn't have a habit of not breathing when he cums so he could ask Lance to choke him out instead. 

Speaking of, Keith doesn't blame Lance for stopping when he does, hips going still with a half amused, half concerned little "woahhokay." Wishes he could see what kind of smile he gets, but needs a couple more seconds of closed eyes and limp limbs and heavy breaths while he coughs himself back to a normal heart rate.

And when he does, they take a few moments to breathe, can’t be bothered by Hunks voice echoing from downstairs, wondering where they went. Just take a second to appreciate the cool autumn breeze from Lances open window, and the gentle caress of his music still covering the room like a blanket. 

“Fuck…” Keith speaks first, finally. Finally able to form words again, even if they're scratchy and stinging his throat a little. It has Lance lifting his head from the crook of his neck, slowly pulling himself out and leaving Keith feeling disappointed at the loss way too soon. 

He cracks a smile. It’s not his deadly smirk, or his soft grin of admiration, it’s happy. It’s genuinely happy, has his eyes shining, has both of them starting to giggle, touching their foreheads together before Lance collapses to the side, running a hand through his bangs. 

“So that was…” He starts, speaking through the subdued laughter. 

“Hot.” Keith finishes for him. 

“Very hot.” 

“We’re doing that again. That’s a regular thing now.” Keith doesn’t care if it’s too fast, or too much or too whatever. Lance can’t fuck him like _that_ and _not_ expect Keith to get addicted to that shit. 

“Hmmm,” Lance considers, but it’s hammy, it’s over the top. “I’ll see if I can work it into my schedule.” 

That has Keith laughing where he’d normally be eye rolling, but for whatever reason that shit is so much funnier when he just had Lance's dick inside him. 

The comfortable silence that follows gives room for Lance to sit up, movements slow and unhurried while he crawls his way back overtop of Keith.

The music is chill and the lights are low and everything is hazy and perfect for Keith to watch Lance lick his stomach clean. He isn't even sure if it's supposed to be a show or if Lance is genuinely enjoying himself - probably both, but the way Lance's eyes flutter closed when Keith cards his fingers through his now messy hair is cute. The way they flutter back open when Keith wipes a stray dribble of cum from the side of Lance's mouth is sweet. 

The way they stare up at him, lids heavy now, definitely being sexy on purpose while he pulls Keith's thumb into his mouth and sucks it clean, chasing after it with his tongue on the way out, is hot. A nice role reversal from their little confession in the backyard a couple weeks ago.

And then Lance is lying back down beside him, not at all managing to hide his little self satisfied smile, like he's been wanting that payback since Keith pulled it on him. 

“So...I have a question..” He asks it a bit too late, lets the comfortable silence linger a bit too long until it becomes a New Conversation. Didn’t mean to, but he’s still in a drunk, hazy, post-mindblowing-orgasm-state, so he doesn't really care. 

“Mhm?” Lance is comfortable, eyes closed, fingers tangled in Keith’s hair. 

“I...I wanna go down on you...but..I have...no idea what I’m doing.” It’s the most honest thing he thinks he’s ever said. 

It gets a look from Lance, eyebrows raised slightly, eyes wide now, smile growing by the second. 

“What are you smiling about?” 

“You’re cute.” 

“Wh-no, I..I’m tryna be honest here!”

Lance closes his eyes again, leans his head back down but his smile lingers. “Go down on me then.” 

It has Keith’s stomach backflipping, has that telltale tingle of interest swirling in the pit of his stomach again. “I’ve never...I mean...I’ve only ever-” 

“S’okay…” He’s still smiling, still content, eyes still closed. “I’ll tell you what to do. You can start by taking the strap off.” 

“Oh..kay.” The sudden swell of confidence Lance sparks in him has Keith working at the buckle in seconds. But apparently he's getting ahead of himself. Is caught off guard by the thumb and pointer finger tilting his chin up to be met with _that_ grin again. The one that lights a fire in his dick faster than anything else. 

“But I want you to lick me clean first.” He’s stern with it, still sweet as can be, but also emanating an energy that makes Keith want to do exactly as he says. “Can you do that for me, baby?” 

Keith’s swallow is thick, strained from the angle Lance is holding his head at. And _okay_ he can _definitely_ get behind this dynamic. 


	2. Lesson 2: Keith Learns How to Go Down on Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Contains: 
> 
> Mentions of alcohol use  
> Oral sex (y'know, like the chapter title)  
> Really small hints of gender dysphoria with Lance

Keith’s pulse is pounding in his ears when he slides the strap down Lance’s legs. Feels a rush of excitement tingling up his spine when he looks up to see what’s waiting for him there. 

Figure drawing does _not_ provide him with views like this. 

Definitely doesn’t get him sucking on his bottom lip like he is now, nervousness and excitement swirling away in the pit of his stomach even though he has no idea where to start. Lance said he’d tell him what to do but he’s still just lying there, eyes tracking Keith with enticing interest, legs spread open before him. 

“Wh…” And suddenly Keith can’t form words properly again, except this time he knows what he wants to say. “What should I-huhhh…” 

If he thought his heart was beating hard before, it’s bass boosted now, drumming in his ears louder than the rustle of the bedsheets when Lance trails a calm hand over his own stomach, first two fingers dipping down, rubbing himself in slow, lazy circles. Works perfectly as no doubt intended to shut Keith up and show him what he’s in for. 

“Gimme your fingers, baby.” It’s soft, inviting when he says it, but he’s not asking. 

It has Keith’s feet carrying him over before his mind can even register how he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, reaching a hand out tentatively until Lance takes it, uses it to pull him closer, licks Keith’s fingers into his mouth. 

It’s not arbitrary, not like it was before, he’s got a purpose now. Wastes no time getting Keith’s fingers nice and wet before popping off, licking up the line of spit that lingers between them. 

Keith’s swallow is heavy, nervous, excited. Feels those butterfly tingles up his spine again when Lance guides his hand down, replacing his own fingers with Keith's trembling, timid ones faster than Keith’s ready for. 

“Hhohmygod-” He says it in one, shaky breath, isn’t sure if he means to or not but it’s genuine because _holyshitholyshitholsyshit_ it’s warm, soft, wet, _so fucking soft._

And maybe if he wasn’t staring at his hand, at Lance’s junk, at his _hand on Lance’s junk_ , he’d notice the amused smile that accompanies Lance’s little chuckle. 

Maybe he’d notice the way Lance’s eyebrows raise a bit in pleasant surprise when Keith takes it upon himself to press his fingers down gently, giving an experimental rub against the soft, _softsoftsoft_ heaven beneath them. 

But he doesn’t notice. He’s still trying to work out how his fingers got from Lance's mouth to between his legs to pressing down all on their own because he doesn’t _think_ he meant to do that - but how can he not? It’s so _so soft_ it’s practically _begging_ to be rubbed out. 

When he keeps going, it’s on purpose. Only takes him a brief pause between that first experimental press and realizing that _yes he very much wants to do that again thank you._ Can’t look away from where his fingers circle over and over and over that cute, pink button, loves seeing how they push and pull the skin around it - _soft soft soft soft soft._

For a moment Lance is being uncharacteristically silent about the whole Thing. Maybe likes watching the uncertainty in Keith's eyes turn to wonder and the wonder turn to obsession. 

That is, until his voice has Keith blinking back into reality with a low, appreciative hum. It’s voluntary, it’s controlled, but it stokes a fire in the pit of Keiths stomach, burning out any nerves he had left because he _fucking forgot._ Actually just _forgot_ that this is supposed to be getting Lance off. Got too wrapped up in the heat, the wet _soft_ heat hugging his fingers - _it feels so inviting it feels like sunshine by the ocean and sips of hot chocolate on a winter day and how can he not want to play with it??_

But the fact that it’s for Lance makes it so much _sweeter._ The reminder has him all at once blinking up to its source and stalling his fingers, but only for a second before he’s rubbing with tentative purpose, shyly chasing after another moan, even if all it’s for is to tell him he’s on the right track. 

Lance smiles when their gazes meet, eyelids heavy, expression cool. He reaches out to grab a handful of Keith’s bangs, forces Keith to really look at him. It’s gentle and soft, just like Lance, but also like Lance, it’s directing, running the show, getting Keith wherever Lance wants him and he’s more than happy to be there. 

“You like it down there?” 

Keith’s words are still lost, melted away, but at least he can nod his head and circle his fingers. 

“Wanna taste?” 

_God,_ he doesn’t even need to imagine how big his eyes must get, how blown out his pupils must be, because Lance’s amused little smile is enough for him to know he looks as excited and eager and unprepared as he feels.

“Y...yes please.” He has no idea why he’s being so polite, but it seems to feed whatever invigorating flame Lance is riding high on, gets him using his hold on Keith’s bangs to guide his head down.

It’s gentle, is always so fucking gentle, but it’s just a suggestion, just a push in the right direction to get Keith moving on his own, settling himself between Lance’s legs, only pulling his fingers away from _absolute heaven_ because he knows he can replace them with his mouth.

He takes a second to stare, drinks it all in now that he’s at eye level. Fuck, his heart rate’s going a million miles an hour. The lump of excitement is growing in his chest while he licks his lips and leans in, stalls, reassesses and tilts his head a bit to the left, stalls again and then tilts to the right, has to find the perfect angle. 

And Lance is so patient, waits silently while Keith figures himself out, but he notices the struggle, the confusion. Reaches both his hands down and frames Keith’s face, pulls it towards himself so that all Keith has to do is stick his tongue out.

He does. 

Only needs to reach the smallest amount before he feels it, _tastes_ it, and it’s a lot and it’s unexpected and way closer than he thought, it gets him pulling away but just for a second, just because he’s surprised. Then he’s dipping back in, past Lance’s hands, leaning into it this time, putting some weight behind it, pressing the flat of his tongue down and it’s _still so fucking soft._

It pulls a sharp inhale out of Lance, quick and involuntary this time through clenched teeth, and he’s...surprised. Keith caught him off guard, why is that so hot? 

It all happens quickly but Keith’s eyelids drop closed when Lance runs those fingers through his bangs again, grabbing a tight fistful and pulling himself closer so he can pitch his hips up and grind against Keith’s tongue with a satisfied hum. 

“ _Hnnmm, that’s my boy._ ” 

And ooo _ohoho man Keith’s never been so blindsided by his own dick before._ That praise works its way through him like a _wildfire_ , even though he just had a blackout worthy orgasm like ten minutes ago he can already feel the blood rushing, interest swirling, low and heavy again. 

It gets him wrapping his arms around Lance's hips, holding them close so he can start up a rhythm, circling his tongue over the sweet, salty, tangy swell, delicate and careful and dripping where his chin is pressed against Lance's entrance. 

“Don’t be so gentle,” Lance directs from above, giving a light tug where his fingers are tangled in Keith’s hair. “Lick me like you mean it, honey.” 

_Fuuck_ that voice could tell Keith to do _anything_ and he’d do it without hesitation. Hell _yes_ he can lick him harder, is _more_ than happy to show Lance how much he means it. Gets a greedy little power rush at the contented, open mouthed moan he draws out when he drags his tongue flat and hard up Lance’s heat. 

Chases after another one, and another. 

He gets lost in the motion, lost in the way Lance bucks his hips gently, encouraging Keith to press harder, lick farther. He tastes like the sea, it’s musky and suffocating and perfect and mixing with the drool dribbling down Keith’s chin. It’s a mess it’s a mess it’s a mess, the hottest mess Keith’s ever been, and it gets him moaning into it, gets Lance’s breath coming quicker now. 

“Give it a suck for me, baby,” comes another demand, sweet and breathless and impatient. 

When Keith glances up, Lance’s eyes are closed, he isn’t smiling anymore, looks focused in a different way, now - eyebrows cinched together like he’s concentrating on feeling good. The hand that isn’t holding Keith’s hair back comes to pull his own bangs out of his eyes so he can lift his head and blink down and watch Keith follow his orders. 

And Keith holds the eye contact, melts at the way Lance’s gaze goes dark and heavy when he wraps his lips around the small, swollen bulge and sucks it against his tongue. Savors how Lance drops his head back against the pillow with a drawn out, shaky sigh, eyes rolling closed when Keith lets it go, drags his tongue back over and sucks it into another open mouthed kiss. 

“Guh..God you’re such a good boy, Keith.” 

Keith’s never felt more proud of himself, lets Lance's praise wash over him, enjoys the pleasant tingles it sends through his body while his mouth works away. 

For whatever reason he thought this would be harder, thought he’d be shit at it - and maybe he is, maybe Lance is faking it but something tells Keith he isn’t. Doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would, but he can also feel Lance pulsing under his tongue, can feel his muscles tensing when Keith sucks him in, has to tighten his hold on Lance’s hips because they’re starting to grind harder now, hungry and chasing and too sporadic for Keith to keep up. 

That, and Lance’s mouth is running, breathless and heated and lost in his own little world up there but Keith isn’t complaining one bit. It’s got him hard and resisting the urge to rut up against the mattress, wanting to match the pace of Lance’s hips with his own. 

“Fffuck I knew you’d be good at sucking me off...so fuckingcute...suh..so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good, keep going..” 

Of fucking course Lance is a talker, Keith should be used to him running his mouth by now, but all the hazy, winded praise is it’s own brand of sexy that Keith can’t seem to get enough of. It calms his nerves, boosts his confidence, gets his hands moving, eager eager eager to please, wants to get Lance there, wants to show him as good a time as he showed Keith even though he’s pretty sure that’s not in the cards with his current skill set. 

Because this is Keith’s first time doing this, and he’s inexperienced and clueless, but it feels natural. Feels like second nature to reach his hand down below his mouth and sink a finger into that wet heat and _holy fuck it’s so warm it’s another fucking world in there and he never wants to leave-_

“Woa-hah heyheyhey, nuh uh-” The whiplash doesn’t register right away, but the hand in Keiths hair is suddenly pushing at his forehead, legs are closing in front of him, cutting him off. 

Before he really gets what’s happening, Keith misses the warmth hugging his face, misses the taste of Lance - but then everything comes to a screeching halt, both of them sitting up, room spinning, settling. 

Then it sinks in. 

Lance’s slick, wet cum now coating his fingers - his face - no longer feels inviting.

It makes him feel like shit. Like the biggest inconsiderate asshole on the planet. 

“F..shit, I’m sorry - fuck I’m so sorry, Lance, I didn’t, I thought I was supposed to - I’m so sorry-” 

But Lance isn’t angry, he’s carding a hand through his hair, the distress leaving his eyes quickly, pleading right back at Keith. 

“It’s okay, hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” He scootches forward when Keith takes a shaky breath, tears threatening to fall because he feels _so fucking bad,_ but _fuck no_ he’s _not going to cry_ , has absolutely _no right_ to cry about this. 

“S..I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, I-I didn’t think - wasn’t thinking-” 

“Hey, it’s _okay_ ,” The fact that Lance is reaching out, tucking Keith’s hair behind his ear, voice soft and comforting - it just makes Keith feel like even more of a dick. “I should’ve told you I don’t usually like that.” 

Keith isn’t sure what to say at that, ignores the spark of interest that ‘usually’ gets him because _nope, no sir, he’s not pressing this any further._ He swallows. Remembers he's still sopping wet. Uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth off. 

“Hey,” Lance gets him looking up, mattress dipping slightly while he drags his way back over to Keith, slow and sexy again and so clearly trying to move past the sour, embarrassed mood Keith is stuck in. 

“You nearly got me, y’know.” It’s whispered close, warm against his ear. Followed by an open mouthed kiss to his neck that spikes his pulse and has his eyes rolling closed and trying trying _trying_ to get past it like Lance is. 

“Really?” Keith’s voice is quiet, catches in his throat a little. 

“Mhmmm, had me _so_ close…” 

“Um…oh…” He doesn’t know what to say, never knows what to say - how can he know what to say when Lance is grabbing his hand and guiding it under him?? How can Keith even _think_ when Lance is kneeling in front of him and sitting on his fingers and pushing them hard against himself and rolling his hips into it and it’s _so fucking soft, fuck, Keith could never get bored of this._

Lance's breath is hot against his lips, free hand sliding over Keith's shoulders so he can pull himself closer in a full body grind. “Think it’s only fair you finish what you started.” 

“Hh..o..kay…” 

Fuck, his nails are digging into Keith’s skin where they guide his fingers, but it’s good. Hurts in a good way. 

“C’mon baby, don’t make me do all the work,” he’s getting breathy again, definitely playing it up this time, definitely wants Keith to know he’s feeling it. 

“Okay…” 

So he stiffens his fingers up, follows the rhythm Lance's hips set for him. Must do a good job because those fingernails soften their grip, let him rub Lance over without their guidance. Instead they dig into his wrist, steadying and stinging a bit when Lance leans his weight on it. 

“Circles - _circles, baby_ -" he's losing it now, speaks through gasps with his eyes squeezed shut, hips working relentlessly against Keith's hand. 

"Okay-"

Keith does as he's told, presses down hard, rubs quick, sloppy circles that have his whole hand cramping but it's so worth it to watch Lance chase after it. So worth it when his breath starts to come quick and short and-

"Fuck..fuck fuck fuck _yes Keith, fuck-"_

It's like watching a wave build up and then break and wash over itself. Keith doesn't want to blink, doesn't want to miss a second of Lance's mouth dropping open, head tilting back, hands clawing, hips stuttering over Keith's fingers while he rides it out. 

His voice is gasping and heavy - gets Keith pushing his hand to struggle through the sting of cramping muscles.

He wants more, wants to keep it going, wants to get there together next time, wants to sync up and tip over - but that has to wait. 

Cause right now Lance is at the tail end of it, hips already stopping even though Keith doesn't want to yet, not when Lance is leaning into him now, hanging off of his shoulders, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck, body limp and tense at the same time, and Keith _doesn't want it to be over_. 

But- 

"Keith, KeithKeithKeithKeithKeith-" it's urgent, warning, accompanied by the hand clutching his wrist pushing down, pushing his fingers away. 

"K-kay, okay," it's more to himself than Lance, under his breath and steadying, forcing himself to pull away and stretch his stinging hand out, clenching and unclenching a fist until his fingers stop tingling pins and needles. 

Lance's body is warm, breath still heavy and hot where he rests his forehead on Keith’s shoulder, hands bracing himself on either side of Keith’s hips.

Everything slows down, back to normal, lets Keith appreciate a calming sigh when he cradles the back of Lance's head in his palm. It’s comfortable, even a little domestic, not what he expected from a hookup. 

Lance is smiling again when he catches his breath and lifts his head, content, placid, humming into a lazy kiss. 

“Thanks for the head, homie~” 

It’s close, and playful, and way too sexy for how dumb it is, but that seems to be Lance’s specialty. And Keith is more than happy to fall into their safe, familiar territory of horny stupidity. 

“Thanks for the dick down, my dude.” 

Doesn’t know how this could have ended any other way than with hammy, over the top flirting, but it’s perfect. It means they’re okay. They’re good. 

“Any time.” He’s getting up now - Lance is - unhurried but moving on even though Keith _maybe_ wants to stay in bed a little longer. “And I _do_ mean _any time._ ” 

He’s throwing Keith the hammy smirk - quirked eyebrow and all - while he digs through his drawers for clean clothes. It’s fine, Keith can lay back on Lances bed, naked and comfortable while the fairy lights lining the ceiling stare down at him. 

“Can you pencil me in for a 3 o’clock tomorrow?” 

He’s only half joking, has a feeling he’ll only ever be half joking from now on. 

“You _know_ I don’t got anything else goin’ on.”

_God_ , he hopes he’s not the only one half joking. 

“Hey,” It gets him blinking down to where Lance stands at his dresser, fully clothed in sweats and a hoodie now, throwing an equally comfortable outfit over to Keith. “Nice dick.” 

* * *

Nearly everyone is gone by the time they return to the living room. Pidge is locked in an intense game of Mario Kart with one of her programming friends - the other two already passed out beside them. Hunk and Shay are drunkenly mad sciencing some unorthodox recipe together in the kitchen, but aside from that the place is either empty, or littered with sleeping college kids. 

“The fuck’djyou two go?” Pidge doesn’t take her eyes off the screen when Keith plops down on the couch beside her.

“What are you talkin about, we’ve been here the whole time.” They didn’t exactly talk about telling Hunk and Pidge, but Keith figures she wouldn’t need, or like to know.

“M’kay, whatever.” 

“Dude, try this, try this-” Hunk is ushering Lance over before he gets a chance to join the Mario party, feeding him a dubious, but no doubt delicious spoonful of orange mush. 

“What the fuck _is_ that?” Lance speaks through his mouthful, confused but not offended by the flavor. 

Keith watches from the couch, smiles at the way Lance talks and laughs and just exists. He’s hot and perfect even when he’s not doing anything particularly hot or perfect. Or maybe Keith’s just a simp. 

Either way he gets those good, warm fuzzies when Lance flashes a smile at him from the kitchen, attention straying from Hunk’s second spoonful of mystery mush. It’s not anything new or different. Both of them are more than familiar with the silent smiles and inside jokes that are so inside they’re barely jokes at this point, but it hits a bit different now. Feels a bit warmer, like more of a Thing. 

Oh yeah. 

They can definitely make this work. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Lesson 3: Ask and You Shall Recieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Contains: 
> 
> Just a lot more smut  
> More mentions of weed & alcohol use  
> Keith being a simp

“What the _fuuh-huuuhh-”_

“Heh...like this one, do we?” 

“Mmm.. _mhm_.”

“Thought you might~” 

Keith’s in absolute fucked out _bliss._ He’s high on Lance’s vibrating strap-on, and he never wants to come down. Every time he thinks he’s felt everything there is to feel, Lance always has something else to bring to the table. 

First it was Keith's nipples - which he didn’t even _know_ were sensitive. But _Lance_ did. Somehow. Had him tipping over in seconds with nothing more than a few kitten licks while he fucked nice and quick and deep like the first time. 

Then it was his tongue - Lance’s tongue. The third time they hooked up it was in the back of Keith’s car on a camping trip - don’t ask him why the _fuck_ they decided to go camping in November, it was fucking _freezing._

They should’ve expected it, but they’re idiots together, okay? Keith forgot the lube and Lance forgot his _wholeass dick,_ so when they snuck out of the tent to fool around, they had...limited resources. 

But that certainly didn’t stop Lance from reducing Keith to a gasping, dripping mess. He got good and sloppy and all-in and _Keith didn’t know he had a magic fucking orgasm switch under his balls - what the fuck._

Then, when they got back from the trip and had access to Lance’s dicks again, he took it upon himself to show Keith the _extensive_ collection of them - which honestly would’ve been funny if it didn’t have Keith drooling at the thought of working their way through each and every one of them. 

Which is what they’re doing now. Starting off strong with the purple vibrating one. 

Lance is fucking him _so slow_ with it, slow and deep and chill and doggy style, but it works perfectly with the high Keith is still feeling from when they smoked a couple hours ago. It’s got him hazy and sensitive and everything that touches him tickles a little, leaves his skin tingling. 

Has his arms collapsing underneath him and his face smothering into the pillow when Lance turns the remote up a couple clicks. 

“ _fuuuh...Laance…”_

It’s a whine of betrayal, Lance didn’t warn him that time, but Keith can hear the amusement in his voice when he replies. 

“What's the matter, baby?” 

“Yuh..you fuck’n...hnnn _fuuck-”_

His whining only gets those hips snapping faster, starting to really fuck him now and it’s _so much more when it’s vibrating._ It almost hurts, _almost,_ but it’s _fucking amazing._ Has Keith’s lungs catching, has him going silent while the pleasure builds and _builds and builds-_

“Touch yourself for me, sweetie. _”_

He doesn’t expect the order - hasn’t gotten one since he went down on Lance, but it’s hot when Lance is fucking him, too. 

It has him moving slowly, arms trembling, only gets a couple strokes in before he’s coming, hot and messy into his own hand. 

Waits for the black out - something Lance has yet to pass up. He always keeps going, makes sure to fuck until Keith’s shaking, rocked to his core by the second and _third and fourth_ waves. Except this time it’s-

“Too much, _too much, Lanceit’stoomuch-”_ He isn’t prepared for the numbing burn of the vibration that lingers even when Lance’s hips have stopped. 

“Fuck, shit sorry-” 

Keith never enjoys the pull out - always feels empty and disappointed afterward - but this time it’s sweet relief. Leaves him limp and melting into the bedsheets to catch his breath. 

He hears the buzz of Lance’s dick die down somewhere behind him, followed by the buckle of his strap being clicked open. Waits for Lance to get his underwear on before those hands are grabbing at his ass like they seem to enjoy, greedy little fingers kneading at the plump skin underneath them. 

“Hmmm... _booty_ ,” comes the low, appreciative praise. It pulls Keith out of his cool-down brain fog, has a smile creeping over his lips when Lance’s mouth presses down on one of his ass cheeks in a hammy, over the top smooch.

“Ass kisser.” 

“ _Booty.”_

* * *

By some miracle of the universe, they’ve managed to keep their boning a secret from Hunk and Pidge. Not that it’s a huge deal - they’ve pretty much been hitting on each other since day one - but Keith figured there wasn’t a pressing need to sit their roommates down and explain how they fucked at the last house party. And the weekend after. And on the camping trip. 

Honestly, Keith just doesn’t want to have that conversation with them. 

It’s fine though. Thanks to the already flirty nature of their friendship, not much has changed outside of their hookups. Nobody bats an eye when Lance smacks Keith’s ass in the kitchen at 8:30 in the morning, nor when Keith cuddles up on him during house movie nights. 

They’re just Like That. 

About the only thing that _has_ changed since the Halloween party is Keith’s figure drawing class - and his grades may or may not be but definitely _are_ taking a hit for it. 

And it may or may not, but definitely _does_ have something to do with how his mouth waters every time he gets a glimpse of Lance’s junk. 

And _Lance_ may or may not _but definitely does_ know _exactly_ what he’s doing when he strikes a 20 minute pose manspreading in the model chair, legs wide open and equipment on display _right in front of Keith’s fucking face._

It turns his drawings into distracted scribbles, turns his grades into 60s, turns his classmates into rivals because it also stirs up the sour ooze of jealousy when he thinks about how Lance is putting himself on display for _them, too._

But he swallows it down and doesn’t say a word because it’s _Lance’s_ body and Lance can display himself for whoever he wants, and Keith _knows_ that it’s just...he wants to be special. 

He wants Lance to open up for him in a way that’s _only_ for him. 

He also just wants Lance to open up for him at all, because Keith hasn’t gotten to suck him off again since their first time and he _may or may not be but definitely is_ starting to worry that it’s because he did a bad job. 

He _thought_ Lance was feeling it. _Thought_ he got him there, but maybe Lance just plays it up - he’s theatrical and dramatic in every other aspect of his life, so why would he be any different in bed? 

Or maybe it’s because of Keith’s Fuck Up. Lance glossed over it at the time, but maybe it turned him off of letting Keith give him head. 

_God_ he wants to give Lance head. Even if he could just use his fingers, Keith would put up with all the hand cramps in the world to watch Lance cum again. 

All this teasing in figure drawing is downright _cruel_ if he’s not planning on letting Keith back in any time soon. 

* * *

They have a backyard bonfire on Friday. Lance and Keith are the last two left at 3am _\- drunk_ drunk and probably loud enough for the neighbours to hate them, cause they’re jamming on their guitars and belting out country roads like the yee haw idiots Keith’s turned them into. 

The whisky is strong, tastes like shit, but it’s hugging Keith’s brain and spinning the world around him when they start the short but dizzy trip back inside. 

They makeout on the living room couch until they pass out, and wake up in the morning to a new message in the roomies group chat from Pidge. It’s a picture of them sleeping, Keith face down on Lance’s chest, drooling all over him, Lance’s mouth hanging open above him. 

They look like shit. 

But it’s cute. 

He may or may not, but definitely does save it to his phone . 

  
  


* * *

On Wednesday Keith is frustrated at his garbage illustration thumbnails. He hates doing thumbnails. Is more than happy when Lance bursts into his room to distract him. 

“Uuugh,” he’s flopping down on Keith’s bed, palms rubbing at his eyes. “Can I hang for a bit?” 

“Yeah...what’s up?” Because something is always up when Lance barges in with his ‘I’m having a shitty day and need to vent’ groan. 

“Mmmfffggnnn.” It really shouldn’t be cute how he rolls onto his stomach and smothers his face in Keith’s pillow. “M’so fuckin’ tired of this elective shit - I don’t _wanna_ make a power point about the peloponnesian war.”

Even when he’s upset, he's still hammy. Still cute as fuck. 

“Hmm.” It’s short, not exactly helpful, but Keith can tell he’s not finished by a long shot. 

“Andthefuckin Phil _osophy_ shit?? _Why_ do I need to know about _hedonistic ethical egoism_ to get an environmental science degree?! I’ve got _actual_ papers to write for my _actual_ program!” 

“Mhm.” 

“How do you even test philosophy?? I thought it was gunna be three hours a week of, like, pondering stuff - we’ve got like five exams!” 

“Hmm.” 

“Where do they think we get the time for this shit?” 

He finishes with a huff, flinging himself back onto the bed because he started pacing halfway through the rant. 

“Is that what you're workin’ on today?" Now that Keith can get a word in, he can try and make things better, get Lance bubbly and smiling again. 

“Yeah, fuckin….studying for philosophy.” 

“Want help? I can quiz you.” 

Lance lets out another groan, but it’s less upset, more exhausted. “Maybe in a bit, I just need a break for now.” 

“M’kay, just lemme know.” 

Keith goes back to his thumbnails. It’s easier to focus with Lance here, even if he’s just silently scrolling through twitter on Keith’s bed. 

An hour goes by. 

They have dinner, shitty ramen for Keith and microwaved hotdogs for Lance, much to Hunk’s disgusted pity. 

Another hour of sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea, watching youtube on Keith’s cracked phone screen and procrastinating. 

Then it’s back to work. 

  
  
  


“Here’s my notes, sorry if they’re messy.” Keith takes the workbook, smiling at the chicken scratch without meaning to. Foregoes watching Lance settle into a cute criss cross applesauce against the headboard of his bed so he can skim through the hedonism section. “Pretty much need to study everything up until the most recent page.” 

All Keith can give is a distracted hum of recognition, because suddenly these philosophy notes are _much_ more interesting than Lance’s apple sauce. Even at a glimpse, he’s got some _ideas_ starting to form at the excessive number of times ‘pleasure’ is written in Lance’s rushed, careless penmanship. 

  * _Hedonism_


  * Hedone = pleasure


  * Pleasure is the ultimate end goal



Keith can definitely get behind this philosophy. 

  * _Humans by nature seek pleasure_



Can _definitely_ relate to that.

  * _Maximization of pleasure is morally obligatory_



Oh _come on,_ he might be horny 90% of the time anyway, but he _can’t_ be the only one who’s ever gotten hot and bothered by this shit. 

Should he become a philosophy major?

“Well, I think I might be a hedonist,” he jokes once he’s done skimming the notes, plan of action already starting to form. It gets a little amused huff from Lance, but that’s not what he’s interested in. 

He’s more interested in the way those auburn eyes stick to him while he comes to settle in Lance’s lap. _Way_ more interested in the way Lance follows his lead and uncrosses his legs so Keith can scissor himself between them, left thigh resting on top of Lance’s right, right thigh under Lance's left. 

“Whatchya doin’?” It’s said with low, playful interest, smirk slowly spreading over those sweet lips. 

Gets Keith rolling his hips, not so subtly masking the coy grind as a simple shift in position. “Quizzing you.” He’s already nursing a semi by the time Lance’s palms smooth over his thighs so they can grab his ass and keep the motion going, slow and chill. “Tell me the difference between psychological and ethical hedonism.” 

“Hmm, psychological hedonism…,” Oh, studying is so clearly the _furthest_ thing from Lance's mind. He probably didn’t even bother to hear the question before regurgitating it back through that heavy, preoccupied smile, already sliding his fingers over the back of Keiths neck and drawing him close and leaning in for-

“Psychological hedonism.” But Keith’s got a plan, pulls away with a playful grin of his own. He’s not settling for the quick and routine, ready-to-go, lube each other up and bone down tonight. Not without at least _attempting_ a detour. 

And _oh_ the look on Lance’s face when he doesn’t get what he wants? Unforgettable. 

It’s quick and subtle, but that disappointed confusion, the quick, processing blinks, eyes darting up to Keiths in a silent, betrayed ‘why?’ is the cutest shit he’s ever seen in his life. 

“Psychological hedonism.” Keith repeats again, gets an exasperated groan that doesn’t pack any heat at all with the way Lance’s hips are still stuck in motion, rolling against him in slow, smooth waves. 

“ _Psychological hedonism_ ...,” It’s an honest to God _whine_ , has Lance closing his eyes, brows cinched in tormented frustration, leaning his head back until it meets the wall. “Humans seek pleasure, and avoid pain by nature...that’s how we are.” 

He’s melting into the bed, head tilted back in dramatic anguish, neck exposed and begging for attention, and who is Keith to deny it? Takes the opportunity with open arms. Loves a trail of soft, open mouthed kisses all the way up to Lance’s ear, savors the annoyed, but not _really_ annoyed groan he gets. 

“And ethical hedonism?” He whispers it close and hot, revenge for every time Lance has done it to him. Gets another groan in return. Gets those hands gripping his ass a little harder, pulling him a little closer. 

“ _Ke-heeeith._ ” 

Ohoho, Lance does _not_ take well to being teased. He’s even brattier than Keith is when he doesn’t get what he wants, but Keith’s starting to understand now - why it’s so fun to be on the other end of this kind of torture. Because Lance is playing along. Could so easily just flip them over and have his way, but he’s humoring - letting Keith call the shots, letting himself be strung along, and it makes Keith feel sexy, makes him feel like he’s worth agonizing over. 

It makes him feel hot, and good, and adept when he breaks up the rhythm of their hips to grind his thigh up between Lance’s legs. Gets butterfly tingles in his stomach at the groan he draws out with it, because it’s different this time. Not anguished or upset, it’s breathy, involuntary. 

It gets Lances eyes opening, stalling his dramatic, whiny act to give Keith a once over, surprised but interested and _fuck yes he’s into it._

“Ethical hedonism,” Keith gets them back on track with another tight grind, has Lance’s hips leaning into it this time, eyes fluttering shut again. 

“Uuuggh, pleasure is...intrinsically valuable, and...and so it should be sought out.” 

“And?” Another grind, another shaky sigh. 

“And…” 

“The maximization…” Keith helps him out, notebook propped up against the extra pillow at an angle only he can see. 

“The maximization...the maximization of pleasure is...morally obligatory…” 

“Therefore?” 

Hips are moving faster now, breaths coming shorter, and Keith is feeling it too, hard and rutting up against Lance’s leg and _maaaybe_ this position is a double edged sword but he’s not complaining. 

“Therefore pleasure seeking is in one’s best interest.” 

Keith can’t help the breathy laugh, drops his forehead to Lance’s shoulder for it. “yeaha _ha_ it is.” 

It gets a chuckle from Lance, fingers tangling in the back of Keith’s hair. 

And Keith tries to focus, tries to read the scribbled philosophy notes without having to move his head, but Lance’s voice is hot in his ear, and all he can think about is burying his face between those long, tan legs and getting good and wet and sloppy. 

“What-hnn..what’s criterion?” 

“Thuh..uuh..the...intensity of pleasure.” 

_Fuck_ he wants to go down on Lance again. 

“An...and the cyrenaics? What do they think?” 

“That...physical pleasure is the most intense, and...uh..” _Fuck he wants to go down on Lance again. “_ S..so it’s the most preferable.” 

“Um..uh, fuck…” Keith tries to scan the page for more questions but he can’t keep his eyes open. Has to bury his face into the crook of Lance’s neck and roll his hips harder and suck a sloppy, toothy kiss into the skin against his mouth that gets the fingers in his hair pulling. 

It has Lance sitting up, starting the roll over to get Keith on his back, lips brushing against lips. 

“I think we’ve studied enough for one-” 

“Iwannasuckyouoffagain.” 

He says it mid shift. It trips Lance up, stalls the movement and has him returning to lean against the headboard.

“I can do better...I think...I wanna try again.” 

Keith's swallow is thick, but the nerves die down quickly when he gets arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, holding him tight and secure and face to face with that fond, devilish little smile. 

“ _Better_ , huh?” 

And all at once, the control Keith had is gone, melted away. Lance is in charge again, but then he always was - simply letting Keith ride the high of dominance for a while, but Keith doesn’t mind it in the least.

He’s more than happy to sink into Lance’s safe, decisive care with a small nod of his head and a quiet, “I wanna try….” 

More than happy to sigh into the kiss Lance starts up, hungry and greedy and still smiling into it when he mumbles against Keith’s lips. 

“Let’s see what that tongue can do, then.” 

It fucking _floods_ Keith with determination, he’s never wanted to excel at something so bad in his life, has to resist the urge to get right to it because he knows a big part of the process is the build up. 

The makeout, the lie down, the slow, heavy hands paving the way for slow, heavy kisses down Lance’s neck, down his chest, and up his thighs. The patient strip down; shirts, pants, kissing through the fabric of tight blue boxer briefs while Lance starts the music. 

And as much as Keith appreciates every contented hum, every encouraging moan that he gets when he starts to tongue at Lances already soaked-through underwear, he wants to be sure. Uses the brief freedom his mouth gets when he peels the snug shorts down those pretty thighs to ask it. 

“Is it okay if...if you only tell me I’m doing good when I’m...actually doing good?” 

“You calling me a faker?” It’s chill, a bit teasing, definitely not angry. 

“N-no I just - I wanna make sure - I didn’t mean to-” 

Lance interrupts with a laugh, it’s short and sweet and accompanied by fingers in Keith's bangs again, guiding his head down. 

“Shut up and lick me, cutie.” 

Maybe Keith would argue back under different circumstances, but not today. Not when he’s finally got Lance, wet and juicy, spread open right in front of his face, different shades of pink and brown begging to be played with. 

Whatever argument Keith _might’ve_ had is ignored and forgotten because he’d _much_ rather be burying his face between Lances thighs, _much_ rather be dragging the flat of his tongue through Lance’s _soft soft soft_ folds, _so much_ rather be tasting the tangy, ocean sweetness like it’s his own personal deliverance. 

And suddenly he doesn’t give a shit who Lance displays himself for in figure drawing, because none of Keith’s classmates get to see it like this - get to feel it and _taste_ it the way he does, and it’s _so much better up close._

But he can only revel in it for a moment, because he’s got a job to do, and a point to prove, and a Lance to please. He could spend _all fucking day_ running his tongue, slow and easy and slack through that soft heat, but Lance only likes that for so long before his hips start rolling into it, impatient and needy. 

And what kind of friend would Keith be if he didn't pick up the pace? It'd be downright rude not to lick that sweet little button into a kiss so he can wrap his lips around it and suck like he knows Lance wants. 

Keith would be crazy not to do it again, and chase the cute hitch in Lance’s breath while he reaches his hand down to join the one already tangled in Keiths hair. 

It's too inviting not to fall into a pattern that matches Lance's hips - has them easing off a bit, rolling gently and helpful now instead of urgent and demanding. It gives room for Keith to wrap his arms around Lance’s thighs, keeps them tight and close and spread open for him. 

And even if he brushed it off, Lance is granting Keith’s request, stays silent and subdued save for the little rushes of air and quiet, involuntary moans Keith manages to earn. It’s not as hot and steamy and intense as it was the first time, but every short gasp and steadying sigh means so much more when Keith knows he deserves them. 

They play to his heart more than his dick this time. 

Make it easier to read Lance’s body. 

Get Lance’s voice echoing in his head from last time; “circles - _circles, baby_ -"

Keith can do circles. He can press his tongue down, drag it around and around and swirl the tip over Lance’s swollen little button when he gives it another suck. 

“Hh..oohhh yeah…” It gets those fingers pulling at his hair, gets Lance talking, but his voice is different from last time, distracted and uneven. “That’s... _yeah-_ ” It’s breathy and pitched up and struggling a little. “ _Fffuck, that’s good, Keith_.”

It’s the hottest shit Keith’s ever heard, the most _genuine_ shit Keith’s ever heard. 

" _Faster_ , _baby-"_

Has his tongue speeding up, chasing Lance’s praise even when he’s soaked and drowning and his jaw is cramping - because Lance’s hips are moving faster too, chasing chasing chasing, hands are sliding to the back of Keiths head and pulling him closer, mashing his face almost painfully into that soft, damp heaven and keeping him there.

“Hoohh _fuckbaby, yes-”_

He can feel Lance throbbing, hips lifting off the bed and stuttering against his face in hot, heavy thrusts that he can’t help - dripping down his legs, down Keith’s neck, voice fucked out and winded. 

And Keith can’t fucking _breathe_ , nose buried in Lances folds and tongue still circling as best it can - and if this is how he dies then so be it, at least he’ll die doing something he loves.

But Lance is merciful. His hips slow down and his muscles relax, only keeping Keith pressed close for a couple more seconds while he catches his breath - so warm it almost burns and pulsing against Keith’s tongue - before he goes completely limp.

The release has Keith gasping, lungs full and burning and coughing through the head rush he gets when he sits up. It snaps Lance out of his daze, surprised and worried and letting out a guilty laugh. 

“Oh - _oh my God_ , sorry-” 

But Keith only has one thing on his mind. “Wa-uggh-” 

Okay, maybe he’s not done coughing yet. 

“Was that good?” Doesn’t even wait to finish gasping before he says it. He just wants to be good, just wants to know Lance enjoyed himself, is so desperate to please. 

Lance's little chuckle holds pity and disbelief mixed in with the amusement. He sits up for it, beckoning Keith closer so he can wipe him clean and fix his hair - fuck, Keith didn’t realize how much of a mess he is. 

“Jesus Christ, Keith, _yes._ ”

“Wh..really? Yur-mmf-” he gets muffled over by Lances hands wiping his mouth. “You’re not just saying that?” 

“Did you not hear me go ‘fuck, that’s good Keith’?” 

"So...it was?" 

" _Yes_ you little idiot." It's accompanied by a quick kiss to his nose, warm and adoring. "You _told_ me not to exaggerate - I didn't exaggerate." 

And Keith can't help the proud smile that forces its way out of him. "So...does that mean I can do it more often?" 

Lance looks like he wants to tease, smirk hammy and over the top, but he doesn’t. Keith’s not sure if it’s a Moment or if he’s just projecting, but those sweet brown eyes dart between his and something changes, Lance’s expression softens a bit until he sighs out a defeated but content “sure, baby.” 

And even when Lance lays back down and breaks the closeness, the intimacy, Keith still can't stop smiling. 

"C'mere and clean me up, sweetheart." Comes the calm, encouraging request from where Lance is stretched out on the bed, naked and chill and hot as hell. "Then go get one of my dicks so I can fuck you."   
  
  


*******

Heres a lil bonus comic (there’s more nsfw stuff on my private twitter for patrons!)


	4. Lesson 4: Don't Call it a Nut Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains:
> 
> Weed use  
> More Smut (big surprise)  
> Brief conversation involving afab language about 3/4 of the way in

Getting dicked down on the regular does wonders for Keith. For his mood, his skin, his peace of mind. By all accounts, hooking up with Lance is his own personal healthcare system. 

That said, Keith’s brain always manages to find some extra storage space for stress. 

And it must’ve done some winter cleaning because _hoooh_ boy is he stressed today. Between the headache of approaching finals, his car’s clutch giving out, and the steadily decreasing funds in his bank account, Keith just...can’t. Not today. 

He can only sit in his mess of a room, knee bouncing, over caffeinated hands shaking while he tries to ink a comic page for so long before he just ups and leaves. 

He needs a break. 

Needs his brain to fuck off for a bit. 

Needs Lance. 

Is already thinking about which strap he wants to use by the time he reaches Lance’s bedroom door, knocking as he opens it because they blew past boundaries a long time ago. 

He’s so ready to smell that cologne, and see that smile, and hear that laugh and just _chill the fuck out_ , but when Lance lifts his head from where it’s buried in folded arms over his desk, the faint hello smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Even if it did, it wouldn’t cover up the red puffiness underneath them. 

And before Keith can even open his mouth, his brain is rewiring at rapid speed because _nope, nonono, can’t have that, need to fix it, need to stop it._

In a split second, his shitty day doesn’t matter at all. Isn’t even on his radar anymore by the time he’s climbing into Lance’s lap and hugging those tired puffy eyes into his chest. 

“What’s the matter?” 

It gets Lance nuzzling into him, wrapping his arms tight and welcoming and so clearly needed around Keith’s waist with a shaky little inhale and a forced chuckle that works it’s way right into his heart. 

“Literally nothing,” _God,_ the way his voice cracks? It fucking hits Keith where it hurts because he's _been there_. “M’just...havin’ a sad day.” 

It’s happened before. A sad day. Keith’s no stranger to the forlorn moping and uncharacteristic silence, he’s always been more than happy to fix them up some fancy hot drinks and sit through a romcom until Lance feels better - but he’s never seen _this_ part of a sad day. 

He’s...never seen Lance cry, and it’s fucking awful. Twists his insides and hurts his chest because it’s so much, right in front of him. It doesn't belong on that cute face but Keith can’t fix it like the clutch in his car. Can’t hot drink and romcom the tears away. Can’t think of what to say. 

All Keith can do is hug him tight and run his fingers in feather soft circles over Lance’s back. He feels so useless, so clueless. 

“Do you...um…” fuck, what is he supposed to say? “What do you wanna do?” They should do something, right? Take Lance’s mind off of it.

Right?

“I dunno…” It’s still quiet, still mumbled into Keith’s hoodie. “M’sorry…” Why the fuck is he apologizing? “M'just being dramatic...you don't have to stay.” 

But he doesn’t let go - Lance doesn’t, so Keith sits back, cups that sweet, sad face in his hands until it’s looking at him. Wipes his thumbs over freckled cheeks as he leans in and rubs his nose back and forth against Lance’s sniffling red one until he gets a darling little laugh. 

It’s a bit of a moment when it all comes together; Keith straddling Lance’s lap, the close, tight arms hugging his waist, those glossy, amber eyes darting between his while they smile at each other. 

It could so easily turn intimate. Could so easily get them leaning in and making out, but it doesn’t. Instead it gets Lance nuzzling his face back into Keith’s hoodie, but it’s quick, determined, picking Keith up with him for a second when he gets to his feet.

“Alright!” It’s the cutest shit in the world and Keith isn’t even mourning the potential make out because Lance is smiling again, even if it’s still a bit forced. “Let’s go watch a movie.” 

“You want hot chocolate?” 

“Yes, of _course_ , is that even a question?” 

* * *

Keith makes the hot chocolate with whipped cream and crumbled candy cane like he knows Lance likes. If there’s one good thing that came out of his shitty higschool barista job, it’s that he knows how to make all the fancy drinks Lance’s heart desires. 

They watch Moana. Lance likes it because of the ocean, Keith just likes the big crab. 

And his day isn't shitty anymore.

“Let’s get high this weekend.” 

Music to his ears. 

“Yes _please.”_

* * *

Friday is Get Lit Night. 

The music is chill, the fairy lights are warm, and Keith's brain is foggy.

“Whaddaya wanna do?” Lance asks it when he’s finished pulling a hit, handing the joint to Keith for his fourth..fifth one? They’re getting _good_ tonight. 

“I dunno...let’s just, like...vibe.” Fuck, he should’ve said that more ironic, but it’s fine. It’s fucking funny, has Lance snorting out a laugh and putting on a voice. 

“All you ever do is vibe, _Chad._ ” It’s nagging, and pitched up, and hilarious. “What about me? What about _my_ vibe?” 

The smoke leaves Keith’s grinning lips involuntarily as he snuffs out the toke and joins in - albeit not nearly as invested in his performance. “Quit hogging the fucking vibe, _Chad.”_

“Oh no - his vibe - _it’s too chill!_ ” 

Fuck, they’re idiots. Can’t hold their laughter in long enough to keep the bit going. 

“ _God_ I -” pause to giggle. “I fucking _hate Chad”_

“Dude’s the _worst-”_

“Fuck you, _Chad."_

“Suck a dick, _Chad”_

Lance is in _stitches_ \- not even because it's particularly funny, but because they're blazed - and Keith can’t fucking chill. Laughs until his stomach hurts, only manages to calm down because Lance manages it first.

“I feel like we owe Chad an apology, mans was just tryna vibe.” 

Aaand they’re gone again, leaning in, hanging off each other while they cackle. It fucking _sends_ Keith, face smothered in Lances sweater, brain smothered in his cologne. 

And it’s still _not that_ funny but he _can’t stop laughing -_ even after Lance has gotten the giggles out of his system. Even when he's moving on and crowding close, slow and sexy and kissing at Keith's neck. 

If there was ever a time to stop laughing it would be now, because Keith’s _ready to fuck_ , has had it on his mind _all fucking week_ \- _knew_ it would happen tonight because it always happens when they smoke, but- 

“Fuck - “ He giggles it, _can’t shut the fuck up_. “I feel like a sober person trapped in a high person’s body.” 

The lips on his neck curl into a smile. “Doesn’t sound so bad.” How can Lance be so _normal_? It’s like he can turn his high on and off with a switch. 

But Keith? Keith's a whiny stoner. “Nooohoho." He's a whiny, laughy stoner. He's rubbing his palms into his eyes now because they’re fucking itchy, and he can’t think, and he likes the static on the back of his eyelids. 

Fuck, he’s _high_ high. 

“I’m living in a comedy…” his thoughts are bypassing filters and falling out of his mouth before he even knows what they are. “But I wanna be in a porno.” 

That makes sense, right? He’s horny but he can’t stop laughing. That makes sense...right? 

Apparently not because Lance is snorting out and collapsing beside him in another fit. 

“What the fuck, dude?” 

“ _Horny!”_

“I _know_!” He giggles it, but it doesn't hold a candle to the way Keith's still silently heaving into the pillow. “I’m tryna get the ball rollin’, here!” 

“Just...fucking _weed -"_ he can barely force the words out. "Just start it - I’ll chill out, I swear.” 

But Lance lets it linger, eyes Keith up and down with a cute little smile, like he's appreciating... _something_. 

On the inside Keith's heart is twisting because of the closeness, fluttering in his chest at those sweet auburn eyes. In his head it's romantic - has him melting when Lance gently turns his jaw to the side and loves up on him again - but on the outside Keith's still a stupid giggly mess. 

Not even open mouthed kisses trailing down his chest can snuff out the breathy laughter. It's so fucking frustrating, but also charming in a weird, stoned sort of way. It's sweet how Lance works him over - with his mouth, with his hands, heavy and high and moving with the music to help Keith out of his giddy headspace.

He licks into Keith’s mouth when the laughter subsides into mumbled giggles. Teases his fingers past Keith's underwear. Starts up the slowest rhythm in the history of handjobs, but it shuts Keith up like a charm. Washes over him in waves. Has him groaning into the kiss and carding his fingers through sandy brown hair.

“There we go,” it’s heated against his lips, has both of them smiling, mellowed out now. Everything is slow and laid back and hot as hell - the kiss, Lance’s hand, Keith’s lazy, unhurried shift that gets him propping himself up with one forearm and trailing the other down Lance’s stomach so he can nudge those clothes out of the way and run his fingers through the warm, soft paradise beneath them. 

Just the touch, the excited little sigh against his lips, the way Lance cradles his fingers down there and flicks his wrist to the beat of the music - it has Keith weak and hard and leaking onto the bedsheets. 

Fuck, he loves it when they do this. 

Loves touching each other at the same time. Loves the way they don’t break the kiss for it, and the way Lance stills for a second when Keith parts his fingers and drags them through those soft supple folds. 

“I love your...your…” Fuck...he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to call it. 

“Hmm?” but Lance is distracted, sinking into the pillow, hand picking back up to work at Keith’s dick.

“Love _this.”_ He emphasizes it with a heavy circle, gets a contented hum in return and a mellow, shut-eyed smile painting Lance’s lips.

“Thanks, baby….” 

And as much as Keith loves the chill, slow, laid-backedness of it all, he also loves the way Lance's hips start to roll, chasing more heavy circles. They pick up the pace, heated and hungry until Keith sits up to strip those basketball shorts all the way off. Unwraps him like a present on Christmas morning so he can bury his face in sweet wet heat and suck on Lance's soft, swollen little- 

“Hang on.” 

Or...not? 

Keith stalls, tongue already sticking out and hovering so close he can practically taste it. 

Maybe Lance doesn’t want head tonight. 

That’s fine, Keith can kiss his way back up to those parted lips.

He can do fingers. 

He can lick his way into Lance’s mouth until he’s humming sweetly, but it’s to get Keith’s attention, get him breaking away and staring down, awaiting instruction. 

“Want your fingers, tonight, baby.” 

“Wh...but, I’m already-” 

“Mm-mm,” Keith’s confusion turns to thirst way too quickly when Lance drags a lazy hand down his own stomach - slow and graceful and coming to guide Keith’s fingers lower. “Not there.” Past that soft little button, past the familiar, safe play space. Ghosting over his warm, _wet_ , _un_ familiar entrance. 

“Whh..woahhah...r-really?” 

It stirs the cesspool of emotions swirling away inside him - excitement, hesitation, surprise - _horny horny horny -_ he wants to bury his fingers in that heat, but what if he fucks up? What if Lance doesn’t like it? What if he does a bad job? _Fuck, he really wants to_ _bury his fingers in that heat._

_Fuck fuck fuck, he’s too high for this._

“Mhmm.” But Lance seems...fine. Is watching Keith’s struggle with an unconcerned smile. 

“Are...you sure?” It loses a lot of chivalry with the way he sinks his fingers in anyway, just a little, just testing. Swears he doesn’t mean to but it’s _so fucking sweet in there and Keith’s only human, how can he not press further?_

“Mhm, you’re all good, baby.” Lance is so _nice_ , so fucking patient and understanding, even when his words are falling on deaf ears - but it’s not because he’s speaking softly. Keith is having a fucking _time_ trying to get with the program, eyes fluttering closed despite himself because it’s _so fucking wet - holy shit did Keith do that?_

“Hh..okay…” He needs to focus. Needs to snap out of it. Needs to force his eyes open again and watch where his fingers sink deeper into the unknown. “Do I… L-like this?” 

Fuuu _huuuck it’s warm, it’s warm it’s so fucking warm, Keith is in love._

He reaches in as far as he can and lets out a shaky exhale when his fingers slide back out - already sleek and sticky, but he wants more. Wants to revel in it. Tries to reason how something can be tight and slick at the same time because his fingers glide in and out easily even though it’s hugging them close like it doesn't want to let him go.

And he could so easily miss the way Lance sucks in a heavy breath underneath him, but he doesn’t. He catches everything. From the flinch in those pretty flushed thighs to the way his eyes threaten to flutter closed. _Definitely_ catches the gentle squeeze where Lance’s hand is wrapped around his dick. 

Rocks his hips into it and pushes his fingers into Lance and _why is it that every time they hook up Keith feels like he’s a virgin all over again?_

“Hmm, not so much in n' out.” Lance gives him a second to play before piping up. Lets Keith try it on his own first, but then he’s directing. “Hook your fingers up - like this-” He’s reaching down, resting his palm on the back of Keith’s hand so he can nudge one of his own fingers in and force them to stroke up against his walls in a ‘come hither’ motion. 

Even when he’s high and docile, Keith can appreciate how _insanely_ hot it is. Isn’t _nearly_ prepared enough for the way Lance squeezes around him, surrounds his fingertips and springs back when he eases off. It’s involuntary and subtle but it’s leaves his dick weeping _,_ leaves him breathless and mumbling out amazed little "Whh.. _whoah…_ "

And there’s something to be said for being independant, but _holy fuck_ does Lance’s uneven little whine all at once flood Keith with incentive and leave him weak in the knees. 

He doesn’t mind working - has put up with cramping muscles time and time again in the name of Making Lance Cum - that’s not why it’s hot. It’s hot becuase Keith could _so_ get used to watching - to _feeling -_ Lance fuck himself with his fingers. 

But as soon as he mimics the motion again, as soon as he proves he can do it by himself, Lance is pulling his hand back. Leaves Keith to his own capable devices. Rewards him for it with a smile and lets Keith suck his slicked up finger clean. Curves that smile into a smirk when Keith lets out a quiet, tormented groan that he can’t hold in.

Because his mouth is _watering_ for it, watering _after_ it. All it does is leave him thirsty and craving more - he wants to be _breathing that shit in and drinking it for breakfast._

"Can I...can I lick you, too?" Fuck, he’d give anything to feel Lance squeeze around his fingers and pulse against his tongue at the same time. 

But- 

"Mm-mm...just this." 

"Hnnn..." He doesn’t mean to whine - really, doesn’t. Catches himself quickly and swallows it down. “Okay…” 

It’s fine. It’s all good. He already spends three hours a week drooling over Lance in figure drawing, anyway - is more than accustomed to not getting what he wants when he wants it. He can bite his tongue and hook his fingers, but it doesn’t make the warm, sticky cum dribbling down his wrist any less tempting. 

Which is why the hand slipping between his legs is so appreciated - abandoning his dick to tease slick fingers into his hole and _okay, fuck yes Keith is so so so into this._

_So_ into the way Lance pulls him down by the back of his head and smothers his face into the pillow, gets those sweet breathy moans hot static in his ear. 

_So_ into the way Lance dictates how fast he wants it by fucking his fingers into Keith.

_So into_ the way those fingers freeze up inside him when he finds a rhythm. 

And usually Lance won't shut up when he's feeling it, but tonight his body's squirming, muscles tensing and he's not saying a word. Has his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth dropped open when Keith glances up from the pillow, but all he can manage are those cute, struggling breaths. 

His body's like an orchestrated symphony, pulling Keith in, squeezing around him. Needy hands clawing at shoulders. Needy hips bucking into it. Fucked out eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

It’s building up and building up and he doesn't ask for it but Keith pushes himself to press harder, faster into that sloppy drenched heat because Lance’s muscles are starting to flex now. Voice is strangling with every gasp until it’s going silent - on held breath as his whole body doubles up, and then he’s choking out the loudest, hottest, porn-star-worthy moan Keith’s ever heard. 

Fuck, he _hopes to God_ their roommates are wearing headphones, otherwise they’re _fucked._ There’s no doubt in his mind that the whole house would be able to hear how wrecked Lance sounds from here - but Keith doesn’t even care because he’s cumming. 

Lance is _actually cumming_ and it’s not something Keith’s witnessed before but it fucking _gushes_ over his hand, down his wrist, drenches the bed sheets, hot and wet and loud and obscene and _Keith wants to drink that shit up_. It has Lance contracting in waves around his fingers, blunt nails scratching down his arms, and it stings but in the best possible way. 

And he thinks he's done. Lance _came,_ so that must mean he’s finished, right? 

But before Keith can pull his fingers out, Lance is reaching down, pushing them further in with a breathless, fucked out, broken little "don't stop-" 

So of course Keith doesn't. 

Picks back up like nothing happened because he's an absolute _slave_ to that voice. 

Hooks his fingers nice and quick again, drenched and dripping and the fucking _sound_ \- it's liquid noise, pooling where he works, it's fucking _filthy_ in the _hottest_ way because that hot slick juice _just keeps coming - it's like the fountain of fucking youth it's the nectar of the Gods and Keith wants to drown in it._

And Lance? Oh Lance is _gone._ He's fucked out of his mind. He's pushing his chest out and white knuckling the bedsheets, voice weak now but every muscle in his body lit up and Keith can’t look away. 

It's the crescendo. 

It's fine fucking art and Keith wants to burn it into the back of his eyelids. 

It has him captivated, unblinking, mumbling out an enchanted little "holy shit..." 

Keeps him fucking his fingers through it, drinking it all in while Lance rides it all out until he's grabbing Keith's wrist again but this time it's a white flag. He's surrendering. 

Goes limp and melts into the bed when Keith pulls out - cramping and stiff and _so so so worth it_. 

Because Lance's thighs are trembling, blankets are absolutely soaked underneath him, voice still gasping for air and eyes squeezed shut while he comes down, and Keith’s never gotten him so fucked out before. Never even _seen_ him so fucked out before. 

Feels like he just witnessed some divine fulfillment. 

Doesn't know what to do with himself, so he takes the opportunity to suck a couple of his fingers clean while he's not being watched. Still wants to taste it, sweet and tangy and only making him thirstier for it. 

"Lance…?" 

Fuck, he wants to get his mouth down there. 

"Lance…?" Never needed something so bad in his life. "Can I lick you clean?" He leans in for it this time, kisses his way up that sharp jaw. "Please... can I please lick you clean?" 

Flutters his eyes closed at the hand that comes to tangle fingers in his hair. 

"Hmm…” _Fuuuck, that voice. “_ Only if I can eat you out after." It's low, and lazy, and tired. Said with closed eyes and a faint, exhausted smile. 

Gets Keith moving before the words leave his mouth.

"Yes - fuck - _yes_ , anything you want." 

He can’t even wait for the amused little chuckle his enthusiasm gets, because he’s finally _, finally finally_ licking those sweet messy folds into a kiss. _Finally_ getting inviting soft warmth hugging his face and _holy fuck it’s so wet down here._

As honest as he tries to be, Lance’s heat turns Keith into a dirty little liar. Definitely has more than a simple clean up on his mind now that he’s burying his face and sweeping his tongue over warm, slick, dripping ecstasy, but who could blame him? Who _wouldn’t_ be moaning into it? _Who could resist_ leaning in and licking it up and making even more of a mess? 

Keith’s not special, but he is. 

Because _he’s_ the one with his face nuzzled between Lance’s legs. And _he’s_ the one hooking an arm under one of those sweet freckled thighs and reaching around to part Lance open with his fingers so he can see his cute swollen button begging to be played with - and _Keith wants to play._

Wants to give it the attention it deserves, and he _does._ He licks it over and circles his tongue and sucks it into a sloppy kiss that gets thighs clamping around his head and hands fisting in his hair and stuttering hips against his face like Lance can’t decide if he wants to pull closer or push away. 

But Keith’s a dirty little liar, and dirty little liars don’t get to give head; they get fingers pulling at their bangs, and nonchalant, chastising eyebrow raises - no matter how pitiful their disappointed whines are when they’re being ripped away from nirvana. 

" _'Lick me clean'_ , huh?" 

Keith's not sly. Didn't expect to get away with it. Can't help the sheepish grin that creeps up on him when Lance clicks his tongue in cheeky judgement. 

"Hands n knees, c'mon." 

Maybe getting caught isn't the worst thing in the world. 

_Maybe_ teasing Lance into domming is what Keith was hoping would happen. 

It is.

It's exactly what he was hoping would happen. 

It means he gets licked over just a _little_ more before that tongue finally fucks him, wet and warm and heaven in his hole. 

Means he gets edged just a _couple_ more times before Lance finally gives him what he wants. Gets that hand cracking against his ass just a _little_ harder when he's bratty about it. 

Means he gets an intoxicating head rush when Lance decides to flip him over and stare into his soul with big blown pupils, sinking in deep and slow and bottoming out before his hips start to snap. 

It forces Keith's mouth open, forces his eyes shut, has him seeing stars despite his best efforts to hold that concentrated gaze, but _come on._

Nobody’s ever fucked him like Lance does. Nobody _fucks_ like Lance does, because Lance watches, and listens, and every ounce of his attention is spent on getting Keith off. 

Which is why Keith isn’t the least bit embarrassed by how fast he cums into Lance’s hand. After the teasing and the edging and the spanking and the snapping, he’s well within his rights to claw at the bedsheets when he does. 

Is more than understandably _shaking_ by the time Lance fucks him through the blackout and the second wave and the borderline numbness until he's gasping out - fucking _sobbing_ when he breathes again. 

And this time Lance’s hips don’t stop completely. They keep up a slow, chill grind while Keith recovers, a grind that he appreciates. It's a nice change of pace - soft and sweet and grounding him so that Lance’s cum-soaked fingers can nudge their way into his mouth to be licked off. 

" _Uuh-fuuuuck me,”_ he groans out after he gets them good and clean. “ _How are you so fucking good at that?"_

His eyes are closed, but he can hear the fond little laugh. Can feel that smile kissing his cheek. 

"I'm a pleaser." 

"You're a _fantasy_." 

The amused huff he gets is cute, but not as cute as the slow, tight hug that follows it. It stirs those warm fuzzies in his stomach, gets Lance’s hips stilling as he presses their chests together, snaking his arms around Keith’s waist and nuzzling into the pillow beneath them. 

"You good?" It's close against his ear, doting and soft. 

"Mhm.." 

But he still whines at the pull out, always misses that nice full feeling no matter how fucked out he is. This time, though, it's made a bit sweeter when Lance comes to chill beside him, naked and comfortable and toking up again. 

Keith likes it when they do this.

Likes the rare weekend evenings, when they're fucked and high and don't have any plans, when Lance is feeling comfortable enough to stay naked with him.

He likes to cuddle up on Lance’s shoulder while feather light fingertips run lazily up and down his back.

Likes to trace the scars on Lance's chest with his own feather light fingertips.

"I like these…" 

Likes the lips that press to his forehead in a sleepy laugh. 

"What, my expensive nipples?" 

Lance's voice is low as he holds the joint to Keith's lips, wordlessly convincing him to take a hit even though he's probably high enough already. 

"Yeah...I think they're nice…" 

"I think _you're_ nice." 

It’s playful and drowsy, accompanied by arms wrapping around Keith’s head, squishing his face into those expensive nipples in something between a hug and a head lock, but it’s intoxicating how Lance’s cologne has his already high brain flying even higher.

Has him hugging back, tangling their legs, nuzzling into it and keeping them close even after the moment's passed.

“Lance…?”

“Mm?” 

“I have a question...” 

“Mhm?” 

Keith should probably feel nervous - normally would, but they’re snuggled close and he’s wrapped up in soft, freckled arms, and there’s nothing in the world that could sour this moment - not even Keith’s clueless naivete. 

“What...what should I call your...uh...your...um...” Lance is patient. Is always patient. Always gives Keith a chance to figure himself out. “Your...your _stuff_?” 

Nailed it. 

“Hmm.” Lance takes a second to register, but then he’s smiling, and Keith is _so glad_ he didn’t fuck up royally. “I don’t really call it anything.” 

“Oh…okay.” 

That _should_ be the end of it, but it lingers. Silent and heavy and decisively not resolved based on how Lance continues quietly. 

“Nothing sounds right.” Slowly, subconsciously, those arms squeeze him just a little tighter, legs curl up a little closer. “But, for doctors appointments and stuff, I just tell them to use afab lingo - it’s straightforward at least...” 

It’s so painfully obvious how hard he’s trying to sound chill. And maybe Lance doesn’t even realize it, maybe he’s convinced himself that he _is_ chill, but Keith can hear the discomfort in his voice. He can fucking _feel_ it in the air at the reluctant, uneven “so...you can use that if you want.” 

Keith has absolutely no idea what afab means, but the way Lance says it - or, the way he _wavers_ before he says it, Keith doesn’t like it one bit.

“What’s...a..afab?” 

Lance hesitates, distracted, but then he’s speaking against Keith’s forehead. “Assigned female at birth.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

“So lingo is like…” Fuck, Keith’s brain is spinning again. Definitely shouldn't've taken that last hit. Definitely _should’ve_ waited until they were sober to have this conversation. “L-like….v….or….” Fuck, he doesn’t know what to say he doesn’t know what to say - “C..cl...uh…” _His voice is shaking and he doesn’t know what to say - he doesn’t want to say it._

“Clit, Keith, you can say clit.” Even though Lance is chuckling a bit, even though he’s half joking, it sounds….not right. Isn’t any of the words that come to mind when Keith thinks about going down on him. 

Sweet? Sure. 

Hot? Definitely. 

Delicious? Heaven? Divine? Absolutely. Without question. 

But...c...cl…

“What? What’s with that face?” 

Lance has him blinking up, meeting his warm smile with confusion. 

He’s making a face? 

He’s making a face. 

“That...doesn’t sound right….” 

It comes out way more put-off than intended, but it has Lance laughing. For real this time, almost appreciative for it. 

And Keith is _so fucking thankful_ that he didn’t fuck up royally. 

“Alright then, what would _you_ call it?” 

“Mmm...it's more of a...a button." 

Yeah. That sounds right. 

Except Lance is laughing harder now, laughing the sleepiness away. 

“Ew, don’t call it that!” 

“Well it is! It’s like a button that makes you nut when I press it!” 

It _sounds right._

But Lance is _really_ laughing now, giggly and rolling onto his back to rub at his eyes in a perfect role reversal from earlier. 

“Oh my God, you little fuckin weirdo. I'm not a machine!" 

“I think it’s cute!” 

It's cute!

_It's cute,_ right?! 

"Alright fine, you can call it the nut button or whatever." 

"Wh-no...no I didn't say nut.” Did he? “It's like...it's like a cute little...it's just a button, okay?" 

It makes _sense_. 

_It makes sense_ , right? 

“You’re a button.” 

“ _You’re_ a button!” 

“Button boy.” 

Even though Keith might be ready to die on this hill, he can’t help the infectious laughter. Can’t help smiling, because _Lance_ is smiling again, and he doesn’t seem uncomfortable anymore, and Keith supposes he can keep the button thing to himself. 

More than anything, he’s _so glad he didn’t fuck up royally._

* * *

The movement beside Keith wakes him up, pulls him out of whatever dream he doesn't remember having. Has him blinking profusely at the fairy lights when he opens his eyes.

Everything is heavy. 

“Mmmnnn…” 

“Sorry,” Lance is whispering, getting off the bed and making his way to the dresser. 

What fucking time is it? 

“Whuh...did we…?” 

They did. They fucking fell asleep on Lances bed - naked and blazed and - fuck, Keith’s phone screen blinds him, has him shutting it off again immediately. But what the fuck, it’s only midnight? 

“Need you to get up for a second, buddy.” Lance’s voice is soft - groggy and half asleep. Sniffling like he does when he's tired and stumbling downstairs for an 8am class, but he’s responsible nonetheless. So much more responsible than Keith, who’s having a hard time getting his heavy limbs to move. 

But he has to drag himself up, because Lance is handing him a pair of sweats and stripping the wet, dirty blankets off his bed so he can replace them with clean ones. 

And while Lance is being responsible - shuffling around, unplugging fairy lights, turning off music - Keith can barely get dressed without losing his balance. All he can think about is collapsing into those soft, clean sheets and going back to sleep - but they don’t exactly...do that. 

They don’t... _sleep_ together. 

“Sorry for crashing,” he finds it in himself to mumble, swaying on the spot.

“S’fine, s’fii-” Lance is cute when he yawns. “Uugh...you can sleep here t’night, m’just gunna go take my contact out.” 

“Contact..?” 

“Mhmm,” Keith’s confusion gets brushed off, but it also gets him a kiss to the cheek and soothing hands running up and down his arms. “S’fine, baby, go back to sleep.” 

“Hmmnnm…” He has so many questions. Feels like he’s living a fever dream, but he’s so fucking tired, and when Lance leaves for the bathroom he can’t help but give in and crawl onto those fresh, soft blankets, too asleep to move by the time the mattress is dipping beside him again. 

* * *

The second time Keith wakes up it’s to sunshine through windows, arms around his waist, and Lance's face nestled into the back of his neck.

It’s comfortable, peaceful, has him realizing how much he likes being held when he wakes up, so of _course_ he rides it out as long as he can. Pretends to be asleep while he drifts in and out of lucid morning dreams until those arms start to hug him a little tighter. 

And he’ll just put a pin in how Lance sniffling awake behind him is the cutest shit in the world.

“Mmm...mornin’ hot stuff...” 

Fuck, he’s gotten used to the heat that tired, scratchy voice sends to his dick by now, but the warm butterflies it sends to his chest are new and alarming.

“Morning.” It still tugs a smile out of him, though. Still gets him nuzzling into the pillow and rubbing his eyes.

The mattress dips and the blankets stir as Lance sits up, stretching out. It gives Keith a few brief seconds of privacy so he can roll over and appreciate how those pretty shoulder blades tighten and release before falling into a lazy slump.

“You sleep okay?” 

When Lance turns to face him, it takes a second to register. Not the question, but his eyes. Keith’s brain is still waking up, so all he can do is blink, furrow his brows, blink again, try and form words. 

“Wh...wait...wuh…?”

“What?” That confused chuckle makes it sound like Lance is already prepared to laugh at the answer. 

“Your..eyes…” 

It’s not just that, though. Not all of it, at least. That bright blue left eye is surprising, but the longer Keith stares, the less he wants to look away, because Lance is _beautiful._

He’s a work of art that the renaissance has nothing on - smiling and shirtless and multi colored, white cotton bedsheets pooling in his lap, even the fucking sun is backlighting him like a Greek God - _what the fuck._

Keith’s used to the statuesque anatomy - has become more than familiar with it both intimately and artistically, but there’s _something different_ this morning. It’s not the cute bed head or the sweet, puffy, tired eyes - it’s not even his pretty tan skin, glowing and warm from the sun. It’s not something new or tangible but Keith needs a minute to drink it in. 

Wants to wake up to this _every day,_ thank you. 

Isn’t positive he hasn’t died and gone to heaven. 

….probably looks like tired garbage in comparison. 

“Wait - you haven’t seen it before?” Lance’s voice is snapping Keith back into the present, gets him sitting up on his elbows. 

“Yeah but..it was brown last time I checked?” 

Lance is hot, Lance is hot, _Lance is so hot when he laughs._

“Nah, I just wear a colour contact. My left eye lost all it’s pigment when I was younger so it’s super sensitive to light - the contact helps.” 

“Oh…” 

“I actually had to wear an eyepatch in middle school.” He says it like he knows Keith will find it entertaining. 

And he does. 

Is adjusted enough to swallow his feelings and joke back now. 

“Pictures or it didn’t happen.” 

Watches with a smile while Lance tightens his lips and creases his brows in feigned tragedy. “Ooo, y’know what, all of my middle school photos actually burned in a fire. Very unfortunate. Lost a lot of memories. _”_

“Hmm,” It makes it easy to fall into the playful banter. “What a shame, just the middle school ones, huh?” 

“Mhm, my best years, lost to time.” 

The dramatic, somber facade gets Keith snorting out a laugh. “So you piqued at thirteen?”

“Oh, it’s all been downhill since then.” Even as he's getting up to gather his things for a shower, Lance keeps the bit going, casual and unhurried. 

“Clearly.” He hands Keith a towel - has probably leant him half his wardrobe by now. 

“Have you met me? My life is in shambles.” 

“Wow, you're a real mess.”

"My golden years as a beyblade savante are nothing but a memory now - c'mon." And then he's cutting their bit short so he can beckon Keith over despite the confusion he gets in response.

"Why?" 

"You gunna come shower?" Says it like it's obvious, like it's normal, like it's not something they've never done before. 

"Together?" 

"Yeahaha," Laughs it off easily, so much contrast to the mini panic attack Keith's working through because it's _not something they do_ but….he wouldn't mind if it was? 

"Look, man," Lance is continuing, tone a bit friendlier now, a bit more pandering to Keith's laggy morning brain because he's already felt too many emotions today for how long they've been awake. "You don't have to, but it's not like you haven't had my tongue up your ass. I didn't think showering'd be a deal." 

“Jesus-” What a way with words. “Alright.” 

* * *

The bathroom is crowded with two people, but Keith isn’t quite ready to admit how much he likes it. Not sharing the space, but sharing it with Lance. Waking up with Lance, brushing his teeth with Lance, stripping down and stepping into the warm, steamy shower with Lance. 

He’s not ready to admit it, but it’s nice. It’s more...fun than usual. It makes the boring, mundane task of getting ready for the day an entire event. 

Rather than his usual in-and-out-as-fast-as-possible shower routine, Keith savours this one. He takes his time lathering Lance’s body soap in his hands and rubbing it into those pretty shoulder blades. Can’t tell if the heat is swirling in his dick or his heart when Lance kisses a wet, soapy trail from the nape of his neck up to his ear. 

“What the fuck is _this_?” He shouldn’t be surprised that Lance gets offended by his three in one shampoo, conditioner and body wash, but he is. 

“It’s my soap?” 

“It’s a _sin._ ” 

And Keith might argue back if it didn’t result in Lance’s extensive pampering. He pulls out all the stops, washes Keith’s hair with something that smells like warm vanilla and leaves it softer than he knew it could be. Lets Keith take his pick of fancy smelling body washes and helps lather them over his back, his ass, his dick. 

His face tingles when Lance scrubs something sweet and gritty into his skin. Takes his time passing thumbs over Keith’s cheeks and massaging his temples. Surprises him with a kiss when his eyes are closed. 

Even after they’re finished in the shower - when the water starts running cold and forces them to stop giggling and get out - Lance crowds Keith against the counter so he can smooth some expensive cool cream into his face. Keeps him there to rub coconut body butter into his arms, chest, thighs. Insists the dick sucking that ensues is part of the process, but Keith has his doubts. 

And after Lance swallows, he kisses his way up Keith’s soft coconut stomach, up his neck, up his jaw until they’re meeting lips. It’s warm and gentle and smells like Lance’s fancy soaps, and Keith’s isn’t ready to admit how much he likes it.

************************************

Here's a bunch of smutty doodles for your viewing pleasure (I can't draw dicks :'''( I tried)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh also I made a playlist for this fic - here's the tunes  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1oZ2xIQEzhQgH5bPTle10G


End file.
